


Salt and copper

by myn_x



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk?, Face-Fucking, Hook-Up, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Swearing, getting tipsy, oh gee where do i start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myn_x/pseuds/myn_x
Summary: Akaashi Keiji. The name had a music to it, made Kentarou think of waterfalls and the feathery swoop of wings.
   In which Akaashi rescues Kyoutani from probably the worst birthday ever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> please don’t walk into this having any expectations lmao 
> 
> this is a self-indulgent ooc mess :')
> 
> for kyoutani's birthday, and akaashi's by extension. i was late, as usual.

It was cruel, really, that tonight would be the night this jackass made his move. He was close enough that Kentarou caught whiffs of his acrid breath every time he spoke, his sticky gaze clinging to Kentarou’s skin in a way that made his stomach lurch.

Some fuckin’ birthday.

The drunk dude in front of him was slurring some pick-up line, but Kentarou couldn’t hear him. He felt sick, dizzy, and wished he had just stayed in like he did every other year since he’d graduated high school.

In another universe he _had_ stayed in, and he focused on how much he despised this theoretical other self, who was safe and not getting hit on by some sleazebag, if only to distract himself from how _wrong_ this creep was making him feel.

Kentarou tried to smother the panic twisting in his gut. _Ignore him ignore him ignore him and maybe he’ll go away_ — His grip on his glass was tight enough that he was afraid it would shatter but he kind of wanted to feel the slice of glass and the sting of alcohol because anything was better than the slimy feel of the man’s presence. He was acutely aware of the press of metal of the bar stool he sat on, which had long since warmed with his body heat; sweat coated his neck and back, and pooled under his arms.   

“How ‘bout you come home with me, darlin’,” the man hissed, his fingers brushing against Kentarou’s forearm.

Kentarou’s hackles rose, and he finally turned to look at the reprobate, whose blood he intended to freeze with his signature glare (but some liked that defiant look, didn’t they?) when Kentarou felt a hand graze the small of his back and then he was leaning against a chest, another hand tipping his chin up and to the right, and he found himself kissing someone, a stranger, eyes blown wide open in surprise.

The stranger punctuated the kiss with an intentionally loud “There you are, babe,” one arm now lazily slung across Kentarou’s shoulders, and Kentarou didn’t even get a chance to appreciate how _pretty_ this new guy was before he was stepping forward to get up in the jackass’s face, close enough that said jackass leaned back, face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

Kentarou didn’t hear what his savior muttered to the man, but the offending party abruptly toppled from his stool and scrambled out of the bar, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Relief replaced discomfort (it was fear, actually, but Kentarou would never admit that, not even to himself), and the man turned around, and Kentarou thought he was looking at an angel because there was no fucking way someone this beautiful was real and had stepped in and rescued him, kissed him, rested his fingers feather-light on his lower back, which was somehow more intimate than the kiss had been.

He had maybe an inch on Kentarou, with a similar but more wiry build and jet black hair that fell in messy sweeps across his forehead, long enough that it made Kentarou itch to pull on it. Kentarou considered the irony of his dark-alley thoughts and cast them aside. _Down, boy._

The man’s eyes were sapphires that glistened with amusement (a mind reader, maybe?). The quirk of his lips and the delicate arch of one brow suggested that he wanted Kentarou to speak first.

“I, um...thanks,” Kentarou managed. He averted his eyes, a blush dusting his cheeks with pink, and rubbed a hand up and down his arm to divert his nervous energy. He’d tasted the minty sweetness of this guy’s breath. He repressed the urge to press his fingers to his lips and test the memory of the kiss, and perhaps trap it there.

The man moved closer, dragging a stool close enough that when he sat he knocked knees with Kentarou. “Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off?”

“Sometimes that’s not enough, I’ve come to find.” Kentarou tried to ignore that the man’s legs bracketed his, his feet resting on the bottom rung of Kentarou’s stool.  

“Akaashi. Keiji,” his acquaintance said with a bow of his head.

 _Akaashi Keiji_. The name had a music to it, made Kentarou think of waterfalls and the feathery swoop of wings. “Kyoutani Kentarou.”

The bartender, Kuroo, appeared. He apparently knew Akaashi, which Kentarou gathered from their friendly exchange about what they’d been up to the past couple of months while Kuroo poured Akaashi’s drink over an ice ball. Kentarou was too distracted by Akaashi’s collarbones to focus on their conversation.

Kuroo moved to serve someone else, and Kentarou looked down into his drink, cheeks ablaze. He felt Akaashi watching him, and his stomach tightened when Akaashi bumped a knee against his thigh.

“What about you? What are you doing sitting alone at a bar with a weak drink?”

“I wouldn’t consider beer weak,” Kentarou grumbled. Akaashi was burrowing under his skin, like the light and dark ink of the tattoo that spilled across his back.

“There are stronger options. Why drink if not to get drunk?”

Akaashi was right, more right than Kentarou minded. Kentarou was, in fact, not as drunk as he’d like to be. How vexing.

He gave Kuroo a look, a small frown and a twist of his lips, and Kuroo nodded almost imperceptibly and poured him a new, darker drink in a taller glass.

They drank in silence, and when Kentarou’s leg started bouncing, Akaashi stilled it with the press of his thighs.  

“He’d been watching me the past couple of nights,” Kentarou blurted.

Akaashi’s teasing smile dropped into something more solemn as he said, “I’m...sorry.” The clamor of the bar nearly swallowed the latter half of Akaashi’s grumbled words, and Kentarou spent many sleepless nights after that wondering if he’d actually been drunk enough to imagine them.  

_“I would have protected you from that. Blinded him, probably.”_

Kentarou wasn’t sure how to respond, so he grunted and raised his glass to his lips, throwing the rest of the drink back. It was a pleasant burn, like the alcohol was searing his soul pure. Kentarou wondered where the soul was located, if it was in the throat and stomach. The chest. Or maybe the groin. He reached for the other drink Kuroo had brought. Gulped the fire down.

Kentarou had two glasses. One empty, the other one-fourth liquor, three-fourths nothing. The latter wasn’t his second drink of the night.

“I’m 23 today.” He seemed full of confessions, sitting at a slightly overcrowded bar with someone who was fucking _illogically_ attractive, whose legs were now pressed firmly against his. He was maybe a little drunk now. Probably a lot.

Akaashi, who sat facing Koutarou, watched him with his chin in one palm, his other arm draped across the counter. Kentarou’s right hand was clenched in a fist to keep from moving it across the infinitely small space between his hand and Akaashi’s. He imagined how those fingers would look splayed across his skin and wrapped around his dick and grasping at his sheets.  

“That makes me two days older than you then.”

Kentarou looked up, realizing he’d been staring, but his point of focus only transferred to the plumpness of Akaashi’s bottom lip, which he thought about biting until he tasted salt and copper.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Kentarou nodded slowly, turning his attention back to his drink.

Kuroo later swiped up money and three empty glasses with a smirk.

 

*

 

Kentarou could get used to this.

They’d barely made it inside Kentarou’s tiny flat before Akaashi had him pressed against the entryway wall, his hands skimming up and down Kentarou’s chest and his lips like an assault on his neck. The friction was nice. The thoughtlessness of their actions was nicer.

Akaashi had a knee between Kentarou’s legs, pushing them apart. Kentarou absently realized that yeah, this was happening, he was going to fuck someone he barely knew, which should have been at least a little concerning, but then Akaashi was mashing their mouths together and it was sloppy and wet and full of teeth and bitter with the taste of alcohol.

Kentarou threw his arms around Akaashi’s neck, then slid one hand down his back and nearly melted when he felt how muscular he was beneath his shirt. Just shy of bulky, but not quite delicate. Akaashi felt so good under his fingers.

He ghosted his hands up and down Akaashi’s spine, lingering at the dip of his lower back. A groan rose in the back of Akaashi’s throat when Kentarou slipped his hand in the waistband of his jeans, a huff sneaking past his own lips.

“Are we gonna...talk...about this?” Kentarou mumbled in the between kisses.

“Pretty sure your body is doing all the talking,” Akaashi breathed, grinding against Kentarou for emphasis. It’s not that he didn’t want this. Kentarou wanted it quite badly, actually.

But Kentarou was slightly drunk and he was sure Akaashi wasn’t, which wouldn’t be a problem except that he knew that meant he wouldn’t be in control of the situation. He flip-flopped between holding on and letting go, but knew full well that it was fruitless to pretend that he wasn’t the one trapped against his own wall.

The hands that were under his shirt now were strong and commanding, and fuck it, Kentarou really wouldn’t mind if they held his back at an arch. Wouldn’t mind if the tongue on his neck licked inside him. If _his_ fingers were the ones twisted in his sheets, moans and expletives pouring from his lips.

Yeah, he was drunk.

“Can we at least do this on the bed,” Kentarou growled.

“Is that what you want?” Akaashi asked, nipping at the soft flesh under his jaw.

Kentarou tilted his head up, gasping out a pathetic, impatient “Fuck,  _yes_ ,” and Akaashi moved back but braced his arms on either side of Kentarou’s head and kissed him, and Kentarou took his face in his hands and he was warm and his lips were so full and he bit down on his bottom lip just like he’d imagined and Akaashi moaned into his mouth and the tangy sweetness of his blood nearly made him come in his pants, right there in his entryway.

Akaashi pulled back but Kentarou sucked on his lip, holding him in place. Instead of dragging his lip from between Kentarou’s teeth, Akaashi reached down to palm him and Kentarou’s mouth opened with a broken gasp because holyshit how did it feel that good when he was probably more than a little tipsy and still wearing jeans?

“Bed. Now.”

Akaashi smirked. “Alright, then. Lead the way. But first...my lip?”

Kentarou tugged his shirt above his head after pointing Akaashi to the bathroom. He walked to his bedroom and cursed when the shirt got stuck -- he was trying to pull his head through one of the arm holes, one arm stuck through where his head was supposed to go.

The bathroom door opened and clicked shut again, and then Akaashi was pushing him through the bedroom doorway with a chuckle, and the feel of his hand on the small of Kentarou’s back was as intimate as it was at the bar. He spun Kentarou to face him and pushed, and Kentarou was sitting on the edge of his bed and Akaashi was prying the T-shirt from Kentarou’s hands and then Kentarou was shirtless.

(The shirt was damp with sweat and Akaashi didn’t say that he wanted to keep and save it for later, when he had nothing but the memory of Kentarou’s body under him, but he definitely imagined how fucking good it would feel to spill over his hands with Kentarou’s musk in his nose.)

“Fuck me.” Alcohol and lust colored Kentarou’s words with red. He looked up at Akaashi, who was still smirking, lips swollen from Kentarou's teeth.

Akaashi resisted when Kentarou hooked his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him forward. “You’re far too bossy. Take your pants off.”

Kentarou dropped his hands. Akaashi’s tone was gruff, but he stooped and brushed his fingers across Kentarou’s hip bones, which jutted from the waistband of his jeans, and his touch was gentle as he helped Kentarou tug the denim off.

Akaashi dragged his lips across Kentarou’s inner thigh, a streak of red chasing his kisses. His hands slid across the top of his thighs and disappeared under his boxer briefs to cup is ass and drag him closer. He kissed his navel, brushing his lips down the trail of hair that was surprisingly soft, like pillow down.

Kentarou sat stone still. Akaashi was being too careful. But it felt good enough (and he was inebriated enough) that he didn’t exactly care.

Pausing at the edge of his underwear, Akaashi looked up, indigo eyes glazed over. “Can I suck you off?”

Kentarou leaned back on his palms, hiking his legs up and wrapping them around Akaashi’s shoulders. “Have at it.”

Akaashi brought his face down to Kentarou’s crotch, grabbing his cock through his underwear and rubbing the head around his lips. Kentarou squirmed and bit the inside of his cheek; the friction was nice but it wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to roll his hips to get the traction he needed, but then Akaashi opened his mouth and teased him with his tongue, right on the salty damp spot spreading across the fabric.

While Akaashi tongued him, his hands snaked behind Kentarou and settled on his ass. His thumbs traced along the edge of his briefs, but nothing more.

“Stop being a fucking tease,” Kentarou barked. He liked the way his hard-on pressed into Akaashi’s cheek when he looked up and thought about fucking into his pretty, bruised mouth, hitting the back of his throat. “I thought you were gonna suck my dick.”

“Shut up.”

It was as if Kentarou had said “Open Sesame.” His underwear was halfway across the room, Akaashi was taking him as deep as his gag reflex would allow, and the hands that had been patient were now forceful, one holding him down at the hip and the other stroking the base of his length.  

Akaashi wasted no time finding a rhythm. He twisted his hand with every stroke, flicking his tongue over the head each time he came up. When he sank down, he brushed up with his tongue, and there was already spit everywhere, dripping from the corners of his mouth, and it was hot and slippery and the drag was so perfect that Kentarou wouldn’t have minded coming too early.

One of Kentarou’s legs slipped off Akaashi’s shoulder as he sat forward and curled over him, running his fingers through his hair. Soft. Noticing the hitches in Kentarou’s breath, Akaashi paused at the tip and looked up, pressing his tongue against the slit. Kentarou rocked his hips, pushing into his mouth and Akaashi rolled his tongue, dropping the hand wrapped around his cock. He pushed both arms under Kentarou’s thighs to bring him closer to the edge of the bed.

Kentarou moaned and cupped the back of Akaashi’s head and moved again, this time deeper, but not too deep, gauging how much Akaashi could take. There was no need to be rude. He used his free hand to brace himself against the bed and thrusted, lost in the feel of Akaashi’s tongue as it moved under his dick with each of his strokes.

Akaashi patted his leg and Kentarou withdrew reluctantly. He had been close, but figured it would probably be worth the wait.

Wiping the spit from his face with the back of his hand, Akaashi moved back and turned to sit against the bed. “Come down here?”

Not really in the mood to object, Kentarou slid to the floor with a grunt and straddled him. He took Akaashi’s chin in his hand and kissed him, not minding the taste of himself, even enjoying it in a weird way. His lips slid over Akaashi’s, and he took his bottom lip again, but this time gently sucking and running his tongue over its saltiness, not biting down like he wanted to.

Kentarou tensed when he felt fingers drag from his lower back to the cleft of his ass. He pressed his face into the crook of Akaashi’s neck, cheeks flaming and his hard, leaking cock betraying how much he anticipated the feel of fingers inside of him.

They were close enough to the little bedside table that Kentarou didn’t have to reach far to yank open the draw and fumble around for the familiar bottle. He was single, yeah, had been so for a while, but...yeah. No shame in that department.

It was strange, but not exactly unpleasant, to feel the press of a slick finger against his flesh.

Akaashi circled his middle finger, and Kentarou jumped away from his touch, the newness of the sensation raising gooseflesh on his arms and neck. When Kentarou didn’t flinch away, Akaashi continued, alternating between slow, up-and-down drags and lazy circles, just enough stimulation to put a catch in his breath.

“Stop tensing up,” Akaashi murmured. He was still fully clothed, but was enjoying himself nonetheless. Kentarou could see it in the way his eyelids had lowered and how he broke off a moan when Kentarou grinded against the obvious bulge in his pants.

With the first intrusion, Kentarou balked, a hiss escaping his lips. Akaashi was inside him up to his first knuckle, but paused to let Kentarou accommodate him and get used to the feeling. When his muscles finally relaxed, Akaashi withdrew, spilling more lube on his fingers, and was back inside before Kentarou had a chance to process what was happening.

When Akaashi pressed in to his second knuckle, Kentarou's breathing quickened. Akaashi’s finger worked him open until it was buried inside him; he dragged in and out, pausing to massage his walls, and Kentarou began to crave the pull rather than find it not-unpleasant.

Kentarou pushed back against Akaashi’s slow thrusts and then his finger was gone again, and the lube was in his hand (how fucking much was he going to use?) and then it was two fingers up to the first knuckles pushing into him, and then he was moaning, and when the fingers made it past the second knuckles he tensed again, but Akaashi was rubbing his lower back and so he breathed deep and slow and unclenched his muscles, giving Akaashi permission to move again, and when both of his fingers were fully inside him he thought about how long this was taking, appreciated that Akaashi didn’t seem to mind taking his time and that made him warm, which made him not want to think about it, because it had been god knows how long and neither of them had come yet, and Akaashi curled his fingers and he moaned _fuckfuckfuck_ , and he didn’t have time to feel pathetic about it because Akaashi added a third finger, and this time it hurt, but Akaashi was patient and there was more fucking lube and the stretch became manageable, and Kentarou wanted more because Akaashi wasn’t reaching deep enough, and he dimly wondered why he’d never done this before, but was glad his first time was with someone who was so giving. Akaashi was fucking into him like he had all the time in the goddamned world.

By the time all his resistance disappeared, Akaashi had worked him to a frenzy, sweat coating his skin and lube dripping from his ass, and Akaashi’s neck was starting to purple (Kentarou was a biter, what could he say?) and then it occurred to Kentarou that he should be embarrassed about all the noises he’d made, that he didn’t think he _could_ make and did, and to hide his burning cheeks he kissed him and it was full of things like tenderness and other bullshit, but he still didn’t bite his lip again.

Kentarou leaned back to catch his breath. He took his cock and tapped it against Akaashi’s stomach, impressed that A) he was still hard as stone and B) he hadn’t come, even though he really really wanted to make a mess of Akaashi’s clothes (if only to see him in some of his own).

“You alright?”

The note of concern in Akaashi’s voice made Kentarou’s cheeks flush with shyness, which was really fucking dumb, considering the dude had three fingers up his ass not five minutes ago. “Y-yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Akaashi kissed up his neck, pausing just below his ear. “Get back up on the bed then. On the edge.”

Kentarou obeyed. But when he stood up, he knees gave out, and Akaashi threw up his arms to brace him. Kentarou’s dick was just shy of stabbing Akaashi in the eye and once he’d caught his balance, he jumped back, muttering an embarrassed “Sorry.”

To his horror, Akaashi laughed. It was a rich, genuine laugh, and Kentarou was struck by the jump of his Adam’s apple and the way his eyes crinkled at the edges, and he fancied himself a little bit in love with this guy sitting on his floor, one hand sticky with lube, a boner the size of all of Japan tenting his jeans.

Kentarou walked forward and offered Akaashi a hand, which he took, and then he perched on the edge of the bed. Slowly, as if asking permission, Kentarou caught him by the waist and pulled him forward, and began fiddling with his obnoxious belt buckle. He gave up and settled for lifting the hem of his shirt and planting kisses on his abs, humming with pleasure when Akaashi ran his fingers through his hair.

“Turn and face the other way, but stay as close to the edge of the bed as possible,” Akaashi instructed.

Kentarou grunted and turned away, sitting with his legs folded under him. He heard the clinking of Akaashi’s belt and swiveled to look back, and he nearly moaned at the sight of Akaashi’s dick, not because of its girth (which, holyfuck), but because he had pushed down his pants and underwear just enough to expose himself, and just the thought of Akaashi fucking him while he was still fully clothed and Kentarou was naked and helpless beneath him made Kentarou’s cock jump, a few beads of precum spilling over the head.

Akaashi stooped to retrieve the bottle of lube and pulled a condom from his pocket, and Kentarou’s heart was thudding dully in his ears. He watched as Akaashi rolled the condom over his cock, as he stroked himself, pouring a generous amount of lube over himself and then Akaashi was pushing him down so that he was face down, ass up, and he felt the drizzle of more lube and the swipe of a finger.

Kentarou was shaking with anticipation, face turned to the side so that he could breathe. When Akaashi lined himself up, Kentarou inhaled sharply, preparing for pain, but none came when Akaashi pushed inside him, just the tip, and then withdrew, watching his face for any trace of discomfort.

“No, I want you to just, to just go ahead and do it,” Kentarou said with gritted teeth. “Fuck me. Like you mean it.”

He didn’t exactly know where the words came from (nor did he really care); all he needed in that moment was to feel full of Akaashi, to not know where he ended and Akaashi began.

“I’m going to fuck you until you scream.” It wasn’t a threat, but a promise, self-assured and with a hint of apology.

“Get on with it, then, I haven’t got all night,” Kentarou retorted. He had always been a bad liar.

Akaashi pressed in, this time not stopping at just the tip, and Kentarou groaned with the fullness, hands already bunching in his sheets.

His eyes taking in Kyoutani's tattoo, Akaashi whistled. “Nice ink.” It was a cherry blossom tree that bloomed from his lower back to his shoulder, branching to his left arm and arching across his sides, petals floating mid-breeze on his neck, little pink kisses dusting his waist. “Are you alright? Can I move?”

Kentarou hoped Akaashi couldn’t hear the “Please, _please_ , fuck me” underlying the “Yeah, you can move.”

When Akaashi pulled out to the tip and thrusted in again, Kentarou reflexively bit down on his knuckle, a small moan in the back of his throat. Akaashi ran a hand down the curve of his back and pushed him into a deeper arch, rolling his hips, and it was Kentarou’s undoing, and he was glad the bottle of lube was now empty and useless and that he’d become well acquainted with the feel of Akaashi’s fingers as they wore him down to a whimpering mess. Which he was close to becoming again.

The angle, depth, and rhythm were all perfect. Not to mention the wet, steady slaps that were more lewd than anything Kentarou had ever heard, and it occurred to him that he’d been having some pretty shitty sex until now, because even though his own cock was throbbing and dribbling and untouched, and he wanted to touch himself but his body wasn’t cooperating, he knew he could come just like this.

As if sensing the direction of Kentarou’s thoughts, Akaashi reached to wrap a hand around him, but instead of deep, slow strokes or a teasing glide of fingers, he stroked him just beneath the head with short, jerky thrusts, thumb flicking over the head often enough to make his other head foggy with erotic stupor.

It was too much sensation to process, with Akaashi pounding into him from behind, his hand squeezing just right, and now the absolute demon was arched over him and sucking a different kind of cherry blossom into his neck and Kentarou wouldn’t realize he’d been hollering until he woke up the next afternoon with an empty bed, a number scribbled on his forearm, and a sore throat.

Akaashi was grinding into him, his thrusts erratic and expletives rolling off his tongue like a vulgar song, right in Kentarou’s ear, and he swore he felt himself crack open, and he was coming all over his sheets, and Akaashi’s hand disappeared, and he knew he’d broken too when both hands gripped his waist like vises, his last thrust so deep that Kentarou thought he was trying to plaster his brain with cum, and he rode his orgasm out with short, choppy strokes and Kentarou’s legs were shaking, and then Akaashi pulled out and they both collapsed, spent and empty, and Kentarou didn’t care that he was lying in his own spunk, he just turned to Akaashi and whispered, “What the fuck” at _least_ 15 times, and all he could think about was doing it again. With Akaashi naked, perhaps under _him_. Biting into his lip again, but with new meaning.

“Kyoutani.”

“Yeah.”

“We _should_ do that again.”

Kentarou leaned over and kissed Akaashi, deep and slow and full of promise, and they fell asleep like that, on top of the covers, Kentarou’s face pressed to Akaashi’s chest.

Some fuckin’ birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com) || [other tumblr](http://zeppellii.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovedeluxxxe)


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